Vinter Year 502 | Fenrir's haunting howls have ushered in a great and terrible winter. All throughout the valley thick blankets of snow fall and hide away whatever foliage lay beneath. Temperatures plummet throughout the night with gharrish winds that seem to slip through every mortals very bones. Even the Wastelands can feel it, a great chill sweeping up the slopes of the ravine and across the sands during the night. Best to turn your eyes to the Houses for safety if you haven't already, nonpartisans. The lingering dark and shortened days mean nothing but ill for the Valley. It will be a winter to remember, and fight, surely.

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It took a moment for the armies of Ambrosius to arrive but when they did, they did with flare. Caelian had been pondering the tugging at his heart, that thought that maybe the Great Wolf of his nightmares had returned. He pushed the thought aside so many times, yet it kept nagging like that stupid voice within his head. He sat, growling into the night until his dreams were filled with the howling of wolves, and waking up in the morning with phantom aches along his body. Throughout the day, he would feel the pricks along his neck where silver blood was spilled and a light scar decorated his hide. His pale eyes watched his people as earthquakes shook his House; they were weary, they were wondering. Rumours had begun to spread across the north of awakened gods and it was all Caelian could do to ignore it until he finally broke. Espen was calling him and he could no longer ignore the bear’s harks. He could no longer ignore that feeling of rage the name of Fenrir sparked inside of him. He wanted to see that wolf and all his spawn dead on the ground, their blood watering the mountain flowers. And so, as all should, he prepared himself.

Never once had he need for armour, yet the impressive set given to him was a necessity for the task on hand. Light and moveable yet strong and resilient as well as beautiful, it was meant for a time such as this. He waited as a helper pulled what hair he had into a ponytail, far from blocking his visage. She ornately decorated his horns with clasps and a single chain connecting them, made of a metal that would help conduct his electricity. A faceplate was set upon his face, studded down the middle with diamonds sharp as knives. The rest of his armour was quite simple, covering his shoulders and spine, but quite thin along his back to allow moveability. It was not protection he was worried about, it was more about the damage he could cause.

He recalled his best warriors to him, all decorated with beautiful armour, and set off into the furthermost reaches of the north to aid Espen as best he could. If he could see those wolves squeal, it would give him pleasure beyond anything in this world. As he came over the mountain peak, he stood for a moment, his piercingly blue eyes narrowing upon the scene below. Wolf battled bear, dire wolves scraped at equines and bright white snow was bathed in the rich colour of blood. The chill wind blew at Caelian’s hide, but he didn’t feel it. All he felt was the heat rising within him, the rage pounding in his ears as his army awaited behind him. He turned back to meet their gaze, giving them what confidence they needed with a simple nod, and charged down into the battle below.

The moon glinted off metal as Ambrosius came closer to the dire wolves. They were few in number, yet mighty and well trained. It was Caelian’s turn to see those wrecked creatures bleed. His horns gleamed wickedly as electricity sparked between them and he came closer and closer, his long legs stretching with grace and elegance as he bounded across the snow covered terrain. He breathed in the chill, let it seep into his bones and relax his muscles. He was ready, and as he connected with a dire wolf, he felt everything else ebb away into nothing but anger and rage.

------------------

I FLURRY hereby consent to harm befalling my character in the A Hunter's Moon SWP. I understand my requests hereby effect the outcome of this SWP.

Enemies were upon them before the ravaged mind controlling the werewolf could retaliate. The swift form of a dapple consumed his last vision of his compatriot (- within his soul knew, knew, it was her and he roared, Aishe! into the oblivion of his contaminated body -) and while his focus was momentarily drawn to the barrage of battle there a gilt stud had managed to come into close quarters. As sapphire eyes snatched to the flashy bod of the equine male it was far too late - sharp hooves clipped him beneath the jaw and sent him stumbling along the ice. He tripped once, then twice, as his forward momentum became his enemy. His numb paw pads desperately searched for purchase along the soft down snow, dragging deep rivets to reveal the brilliant, blue ice below. When it finally caught on an irregular jut in the freeze he managed to right himself, steps haphazard as they drew themselves back beneath. The gilt stallion too struggled on the ice, and the werewolf eyed the sleek, mirror-like surface uncovered by their fray. His clean fangs bared themselves to the golden stallion, and slowly with precision, he prowled along the ice back towards his struggling opponent.

The closer he drew the more eager he became until his animalistic desires could not be contained and he forced a leap from the ice. Paws outstretched the breadth of his leap was minute but it was not length he needed. Those gnarled talons dug at the offender as a trickle of spittle, pink with blood, dripped from his drawn lips. Growl in his throat his muzzle snapped repeatedly towards the stallion's nape and visage until finally his purchase was lost again and he slid across the ice again. The struggle to stand was greatly minimized from prior experience, and it offered a suitable amount of time for the gilt stallion to flee if he so chose - far more than he would have ever needed. Evandr's attention drew itself to the rising bodies along the outskirt of the fray; his soul recognized them, feeding whatever seed Fenrir had lain within the necessary information it needed to make a decision. Ambrosius had arrived.

Once the obsidian wolf with amethyst sheen tossed a glance towards the miniature fellow he had followed. He was unable to spy her through the disorder and elected to follow his gut once more. Scrambling onto better, higher ground, the were ripped through the battlefield with great strides and columns of steam rolling from his muzzle with each labored breath. Despite the time of night the armor along the Ambrosius kingsmen winked in the moonlight. Perhaps a creature of its right mind would have paused, reflected on the decision, and elected for a wiser course of action. But all the werewolf Evandr considered in preparation was a lamenting howl at full speed, his cry calling to his fellows for aid if they had the ability to do so. Weaving through the chaos Evandr slipped up one of the collapsed pillars of ice that the gods had toppled, loping down it with intent and malice painting his sapphire visionaries. When the Ambrosius finally collided into the battle and sought their opponents, the massive beast above leaped down upon them.

Savage claws swiped mindlessly, and his maw snapped and bit at both air and pelt, if it was manageable, upon any of those who ventured too close.

Stunned into silence, but not into inaction, Kagura had the wits about her to spring out of the way as a huge werewolf shot past her from behind, its fangs snapping shut on the space she had just vacated. Fast on its heels followed friendlier, more familiar faces of bannermen from Vromme, and with the sickening sounds of rending flesh, screams, and howls, the battle was underway.

Higurashi hated every moment of it. She was made for the arts, beauty, and the peace of worship, not this brutality of war. The wolf that set its sights upon her probably sensed this as well, thinking the slim, colorful mare an easier target than the fierce warriors with battlecries on their lips. Maren's warning bite served as enough of a distraction to catch her unawares, and the dire wolf pounced from the other direction with a rumbling snarl, bodily knocking Kagura off her hooves with sheer brute strength and ferocity. Both went down in a tangle of brown fur and flailing limbs, and the wolf's yellowed fangs found purchase and sank into the mare's left hind leg. A gasp tore itself from her lungs - she hadn't the breath to scream - as pain and warm blood blossomed from the site, painting the wolf's jowls in red as bright as her coat. But beneath her flowery exterior she was made of sterner stuff than her soft words and gentle manner would suggest, and her other leg shot out in a swift retaliatory kick, aiming almost point-blank dagger-like at the wolf's exposed underbelly. Whether it connected or not, she did not wait to find out - it seemed to her like it had, because momentarily the jaws loosened their grip and she was scrambling away and back onto her hooves, backing away with a new limp and her leg painted even redder than before.

"Lady Kagura!" a voice called out to her from the fray, and from the corner of her eye she caught sight of a Vromme soldier springing over the still form of a felled wolf to run to her side. The young stallion sported telltale claw marks that raked over his face and neck, but the wounds seemed superficial, and as he approached he appeared more concerned with the puncture wounds that dripped blood down Higurashi's leg. "You shouldn't be here, Lady Kagura," he admonished as he drew abreast, warily eyeing the dire wolf that she had just narrowly fended off. "You're no soldier, frankly speaking. Keep yourself safe, go home."

"I appreciate your concern," she responded, ever polite despite the pain and adrenaline that made her breath ragged and stretched her voice thin. She too watched her dire wolf opponent cautiously for a counterattack, but her attention was being drawn towards the center of the fight, as though mesmerized by the titanic clash of gods that lay at the heart of the fray. "I am no soldier, as you say, yet I cannot flee."

The beginnings of a plan began to take root in her mind, though whether born from bravery, madness, or some unholy combination of both, she could not and dared not say. "Please watch out for me just a moment longer," she pleaded of the chivalrous soldier who had come to her aid. He shot her a look of bewildered concern, as though silently demanding 'What the hell are you thinking?' but Higurashi was already lost in focus, reaching deep within her soul for every ounce of spiritual strength she could tap into. Doing her best to block out the pain that still throbbed in her leg, the priestess steeled herself and waded into the nauseating sea of fear and rage that soaked the battlefield's every inch. Even amongst the roaring emotions of horse and wolf alike, her target stood out white-hot like a beacon - Fenrir's hatred and malicious glee was nearly blinding in her spirit's eye. The god-bear's appeal to reason had fallen on deaf ears, but where logic had failed, perhaps the irrational power of emotion was needed... Closing her eyes and entrusting her own physical safety to her temporary guardian, Higurashi collected her spiritual power and brought it crashing down upon Fenrir's wrath as hard as she could with a silent, wordless roar. Could the emotions of a god be suppressed - if so, for how long, with her powers still in this weakened state? Higurashi knew these answers no more than the bewildered soldier who guarded her, but she was compelled to try. If the rage that fueled Fenrir could be dampened for even a moment, perhaps that would be just the opening that Espen needed.

They came at him with speed not anticipated--and while he tossed the crude spear and parcels of ice, it did little to deter them from their pursuit. These beasts, bigger than normal wolves, had come at Nat with the intent to kill. A cry erupted from deep within his chest as one leaped to the ice where he sat. As it dared plummet into the water he felt it's fangs tear into the thick rubbery fin that occupied his back half. A snarl, a growl, he dug his front hooves into the ice as the second one dares to capsize them. It almost didn't work, but as they thrashed about, the ice was unable to keep itself top-side. In a quick whirl of motion, he felt the cold blast against his hardy skin.

Natsilane was now in his own element.

The disorientation went away quickly. Flipping himself so that he was upright, the aquatic stallion used the powerful muscles of his hind fin to try and shake the beast free. Mouth opened to reveal his unusual teeth, seeking to sink their way into the neck of the wolf who had fallen in with them. Thrashing in the water, he felt himself turn and twist--anything to take out the beasts that dared attack the god Espen here. These were his seas, the place he called home; Nat would be damned if he let demons kill here. When at last he believed to grasped something of the wolf in his powerful jaws, Natsilane thrust himself through the water and turned skyward. Through the ice he sought to break upon the Dire's back, and use the momentum built from the sea to thrash it's grey-black hide back to the land. His own body was propelled to the ice-caps again, skidding as he attempted to stop. His hide was slick with salt and blood, tainting the blue-white of the ice with it's crimson color. Pale eyes stared out in defiance at the creature, hoping the other had drowned below the sea.

For a moment, he was able to assess the carnage that was unfolding. People he had never before seen had gathered here, fighting between fur and gnashing teeth. It was Gehenna, hell, the underworld brought to life before his very eyes. It was then, among the bodies and battle cries that pale blue met the brightly colored hide of a woman he'd seen prior. Had she ever introduced herself? He could not recall a name to the face, and his eyes widened as a soldier stood facing away from a wolf barelliing down upon them.

"Priestess!" he roared over the fray, unable to stand on solid ground and defend her--no mind the fact he had threatened her very life not months prior. "Priestess, behind the both of you!" he acknowledged the soldier as well, clumsily trying to stand as if by instinct only to once again remember he was confined to the sea. Gritting his teeth, he let out another roar of his baritone voice, willing a chunk of the ice to break and fly forward with his telekinetic will--attempting to smash the wolf if he could--to protect the strange soldier and the colorful maiden from before.

I [NAKI] hereby [consent ] to harm befalling my character in the A Hunter's Moon SWP. I understand my requests hereby effect the outcome of this SWP.

In the confusion that was her own self and the new conscious that took control--a constant power struggle between the two of them--Aishe missed the dappled flare until it was far too late to react. Three times she was struck in the skull, a dizzying blow that disoriented her vision and thought. Brains rattled around behind bone structure, eyes rapidly blinked before her jaws opened and snapped upon the dapple's leg. Blood seeped between sharp canines, running along her tongue with distinct metallic taste that would make the ordinary Aishe cringe; alas this beastly form that slept within and burst forth this night reveled in such savagery. It craved the blood of the defenders as if it were addicted to the viscous liquid, the carnage.

Some where during the altercation, the howl from another wolf sent a shiver down her spine; within the deepest reaches she knew with out a doubt that this belonged to Evandr. From across the void there was a call, almost, to the recesses of the subconscious Aishe. Pink flitted to its source if only for a moment, the towering beast chased out any doubt in her mind. But whatever feelings the jenny harbored were washed aside by rage and blood-lust. Foaming jowls snapped at another passing equine, only for the beast to turn head and chase.

It was then from peripheral vision did the beast find the glint of armor. With little else to deter her from changing prey, the once-jenny turned on heal to target an obsidian boy in glinting armor. Dripping maw opened in a growl, ready to find what it desired and clamp down on metal and flesh; to tear it asunder and rip it from the skeletal structure that was the ultimate desire for wolf-aishe. Seek and destroy, lap up the blood and revel in the sadistic nature that was this beast. Again, she sought the flesh of this boy and the metal of his armor--the sound of clanking teeth against what she could only assume was the flattened ore rang out loud amid her growls and yelps. Long talon-like claws scraped and clawed; she was ready to take out her prey, but was he ready to fight for his life?

He looked and smelled fresh, baby-faced, newborn to the horrors of war and destruction.

Caelian aishe came at him and sought to rip his skin and armor to shreds with teeth and claws. lets have some fun bruh.

EvandrStorytellerI NAKI hereby consent to harm befalling my character in the A Hunter's Moon SWP. I understand my requests hereby effect the outcome of this SWP.

She could only worry about the young king for a moment before she had to turn her attention to the direwolves running her way. Golden eyes narrowed until she focused on just one of them, one that was familiar. A silent growl vibrated in her throat while the wolf charged and everything around them faded away. Ezera hadn't ever thought that she would be the type to seek out any kind of revenge that was fueled by hate but there was a fire burning in her heart. It pushed her to fight with more ferocity than she would have and might have made her a little more cocky than normal. The urge to bare her teeth was overwhelming to the point where her lips started to pull apart. The resulting pain distracted her enough that she missed the first swipe made towards her legs. The feeling of claws ripping across the front of them, along with the strength of the attack, knocked her onto her knees.
A shudder covered her body but the attack actually helped her. The next attempt that had been aimed at her face was now aimed above her head and the wolf was lined up with being impaled on her horn again. Ignoring the pain the mute pushed herself upwards. Her horn pierced the belly of the beast and she twisted her head around to throw it off to the side. Hot blood dripped down onto her face as she whirled around to face the wolf. While the unicorn waited to see if the creature would rush her again she allowed herself a moment to look around. She couldn't see anyone that she recognized other than the few Tryggr horses that had appeared to fight beside her. Worry had Ezera's heart jumping into her throat but she couldn't go see if Andante was alright.
The mute turned her attention back on the wolf that had taken so much already. She fought with herself, trying to decide on waiting for the next attack or just going straight for it. The smart idea would be to wait and see what the wolf did next but her body did the opposite. Her eyes burned with a ferocity that Ezera rarely felt but helped numb the pain and feeling of dark crimson running down her legs. Just more scars to add to her new list of them. A small twist of her lips was the only kind of snarl that could be seen on her face as she lowered her head, preparing to push her horn back into direwolf.

Sovereign ♕

I KNOW THERE'S BEEN STIGMA 'ROUND ME,
I KNOW YOU HEARD THINGS ABOUT ME ―

Long wolf grey limbs stretched forward continuing to propel the hellhound into a faster sprint, each stride bringing him closer toward the looming figure of Fenrir and Espen. Inky audits twisted and turned in the direction of a familiar rose gold stallion calling out to him, warning him of the dangers that lie up ahead. The boy parted his jaws, letting it fall slack to speak until his acquaintance was flanked on both sides by two opposing dire wolves. Craning his nape the boy's crimson gaze hardened as he poised himself to slow and turn about, hoping to aid his former hunting partner.

As his gait lost a bit of speed to change direction he froze upon witnessing a soldier of another house race by him by mere centimeters. He had little time to contemplate why the male had taken such a risky course of action because he felt a crushing weight slam into his side knocking him unbalanced. Claws raked across his hide as the dire wolf desperately sought to hold onto his body. With his limbs giving out from the struggle the two of them cascaded toward the ground, causing the boy king to land in a pile of fresh powder. Wobbling to his legs a snarl painted itself upon his lips, fangs flashing as his opponent growled back at him.

The muscles in his hinds bunched, preparing him to strike. But the soldier that had cut him off before returned to pin the dire to the ground and continue their fight locked in tooth and nail. With ears pinned the boy king ambled back up the slope at a quick pace to see the blush stallion grappling with a fawn colored dire and handling himself quite well. Off to the side he noticed the striped hide of Brynja fending off a dire of her own. Scarlet vision panned around some more until his eyes caught a glimmer of gold thread hanging from an obsidian mare's maw. The boy staggered, feeling as if all the air had been sucked from his lungs.

To see the unicorn here was like reliving his worse nightmare. Why was she here again after the injuries she sustained the last time? Andante's heart hammered rapidly within his chest as he turned his back to the battling gods and rushed to the mare's side with worry in her eyes. Cloven hooves clicked upon the ice and crunched within the snow until he got within range. But his attention was drawn toward another of Fenrir's children that thought it could try its hand at sneaking up on the ebony mare.

A hellish growl ripped from his jowls as Andante plowed his chrome tinted antlers into the side of the wolf planning its sneak attack. Snapping his nape back quickly his crown became slick with life fluid, painting the shimmering rack scarlet. But he did not stop there. As the body of the lupine continued to roll, the hellhound dove on its neck, sinking dual fangs deep into its jugular and shaking with all his might. Sharp cries and pained yips filled his pinned ears as it struggled, paws beating aggressively upon his muscled hide. But his force was unrelenting. After the dire fell lip he tossed its felled body aside to focus on Ezera. Cantering toward the fem, he readied himself to help her take down the foolish mutt that came to challenge her again with a deep guttural bark echoing from his vocals, hoping to cut off it other line of escape.

be swift!

Chaos, discord, and messy the battle waged on. Equine and lupine alike were felling their opponents. Ezera's horn struck true, slipping through the chest of her offender while Andante tore through the throat of another who had thought itself sly. Caelian was confronted by the smallest dire wolf, Aishe, whose aim saw itself true. Her claws would ravage the king of Ambrosius. Fateful talons ripped just so across the sovereign's helm, tearing through the precious soft skin of his lids and most importantly his eye, blinding it. From above another wolf had sought to fight the Northern kingdom's men but the injury to their king had them at the ready. As he descended upon an unsuspecting victim, claws scratching against the virgin armor, another kingsmen bolted forward and latched the dire wolf by the scruff and yanked the beast from his companion with a barage of poorly aimed and desperate hoof falls.

Three were unable to defend themselves against another onslaught of attacks. Antiope's skill was enough to ward off one of her wolf attackers who simply fell away with a mouthful of feathers and skin, but it left the other to tear at the precious meat of her opposing wing. Like the beast it was its jaw parted with a growl before sinking in deeper, eager and hungry. Across the battlefield the spotted Halani had been successfully warded off by Vladius. Though an ancient war seemed to simmer between them, another defender of Slidr River Valley took the opportunity to come at the werewolf from behind. They sank their teeth into the loose fur along her dorsal and ripped her away, tossing her across the fresh and falling powder and across the ice. Vladius, poised at the ready, was to be attacked by another but the stranger who had torn the werewolf from him had thrown Halani into the advancing dire wolf, sparing them both. Brynja's lack of defense marked her an easy target, and the dire wolf continually yanked upon her withers, redoing its fanged latch time and again for a better grasp to pull her down. Lastly there was Maren, the mad wolf, trampled by a brutish mare. She had little to defend against, outweighed by her opponent and caught entirely unawares. Not only did the flesh of her body suffer the beatings of the iron hooves bombarding her, but the equine landed perfectly. Maren's nimble foreleg slipped beneath the hooves of her trampler, and disoriented was unable to defend herself. All those around could hear the sickening crack as her leg snapped. Unaided, death could swiftly become her...

Lastly was the third sovereign on the field, Bones. Dires overwhelmed his mammoths, but none reached him save one... An alabaster bitch was quick with her feet, slipping twixt the dead beasts. Her red eyes were set upon the skeleton with malice and evil intention. She could have perhaps taken the fleshless creature, but one of the wooly's had managed to drag the other wolves at its back in advance after the dexterous wolf. It threw its head, catching the wolf with one of its curved tusks, ripping her away from the Vromme king before collapsing dead to the ground, officially overwhelmed. It's counterpart drug the rest of the swarm, trampling over those who had taken it's brother, but they were too many.

Last of them thought she was clever, and perhaps it was so. The ice below the congregations hooves and paws shook as the great titans threw themselves at each other again. The alabaster bear used his sheer mass to upturn Fenrir, barreling down upon the obsidian hunter with his head low. Narrowing his mug missed the lashing wolf's talons, shoving his shoulder into the wolf father. Yards upon yards they slipped through the battle - those lucky enough to dive out of the way surviving, leaving others behind in their wake of broken ice and salt water. Espen tossed Fenrir through the fray, casting the massive creature thrice over itself while both his children and equine of the Valley fled his massive form. Struggling to his feet Fenrir bore his fangs in dare to the alabaster bear again, his lips turning up with a grin - as if he was satisfied. Espen rose upon his haunches, eyes dark and shadowed beneath a heavy brow as he glared down upon the wolf god. "Fenrir, today marks your last in this Valley." Espen's rallying voice boomed.

From behind, Fenrir could feel a tickle at the the back of his skill as he readied himself for Espen, whom threw down his great paws and charged again. Higurashi Kagura's magic attempted to dampen the great wolf god's anger, his overwhelming evil... but he paid her no mind. Had it fallen upon him uselessly? Did he even feel it at all? Espen was nearly upon him now, ice cracking and burst beneath his feet. This time the great bear reared with a roar as he came upon Fenrir. But his opponent slipped low, and like a viper Fenrir slipped beneath razor talons that ripped at his back and took a mouthful of Espen's throat from beneath. As Fenrir's teeth sank into the white fur of Espen's jugular the bear's roar climaxed to a wicked shriek, and the battlefield immediately stilled. It seemed even the snow seemed to cease and the sea quieted as a gloss overcame Espen's eyes. Crimson dripped from Fenrir's jowls and slipped through the bear god's bleached fur. As the ursine began to collapse forward the great wolf-beast tore his defeated and slain opponent around. Espen's lifeless body thundered into the ice, cracking the last remaining shafts and pillars that had kept their battleground together. Sea spray burst from the cracks as one by one the ice flows could not support the great bear and he slipped, ice stained with his god's blood, into the freezing waters. And through it all? Fenrir bore his eyes back to the sunset priestess who had attempted to deter him. Blood stained maw fell apart with labored breaths, his garnet eyes unrelenting.

"Foolish mortal," erupted in Kagura's minds eye, booming throughout her body, turning her magic against her. Within her head seemed to swell, pressing against her skull for escape. A trickle of blood would slip through her nostrils, her legs would become weak, and even if she fled the fray now migraines would plague her for some days to come...

But the battle was one. All werewolves would find themselves suddenly uncompelled to fight, and their kin the dire wolves all ended their berserking to turn to their father. Fenrir passed a glance around the Frozen Shore, eyed the blood sullied snow and sea, and his maw broke with a grin. "You're all mine" the god growled, "your great defender is dead." A single paw stomps down, and he stands tall as the gales churn back up. "The Valley is mine..." he murmured to himself, almost purred. Throwing his head back, Fenrir releases a chilling howl that seems to resonate not only from him, but all around the Valley. The dires join their father with their lamenting, but victorious, howls, as the snow fall from the skies rains with tenth the volume than before. The temperatures plummet noticeably with the incredible winds, and what ice had broken and laced with cracks find the means and new growth to mend themselves. A white out rises, temporarily blinding the battlefield, and when it falls... the dire wolves and Fenrir are gone - but not really. From the ridges above the Frozen Shore, back towards the Valley, their celebrating yowls and yips echo. Fenrir offers one last look to his subjects before turning his back to them and skulking back into the heart of the Valley...

Something is happening!Oh... oh no... Fenrir has defeated Espen in battle and killed him. He is the reigning god over the Valley now. Surely this means ill for its inhabitants... What's worse, his victory howl has ushered in the fronts of an incredibly harsh Winter. All participants in this thread will receive 150 crystals for their valiant efforts! Furthermore, those with lycantrophy may revert back and control this new found power at their convenience. All hail Fenrir...!

Virgin white snow was painted with the splash of royal silver as the smallest of dire wolves contronted Caelian. Leaping upon the much larger equine, the compact wolf saw her aim fulfilled. With a roar full of all the hate the king of Ambrosius held within him, the right side of his face burst with the thick silver blood. As the ichor filled the freckled stallion’s eye as his vision was impaired, his rage exploded in a sudden and intense burst of heated electricity. A faint scent of burnt fur filled the air soon after.

From his view, he saw the great bear Espen fall and Fenrir rip his throat from his white fur. With a great howl, he began to take his accursed kin away from the north to rejoice their victory, the forsaken left behind. A great growl escaped Caelian as he turned to his people, silver blood dripping from his eye and down his elegant neck. "I will no longer risk the lives of my people to the wrath of such a disgusting creature," he spoke to the Ambrosius standing next to him, and a saddened expression crossed her face. He addressed his people with a great bellow, ”We leave now.” With speed, a maid came to address the wounds of the soldiers, approaching the king last upon his order. Guiding him from the right side, he made his way back up the mountains. And just as quickly as they came, the House of Ambrosius left the shore of the great north.

Sovereign ♕

I KNOW THERE'S BEEN STIGMA 'ROUND ME,
I KNOW YOU HEARD THINGS ABOUT ME ―

Andante watched as Ezera's single horn ran true, impaling the dire wolf with little aid on his part. A large smirk stretched upon on side of his dual toned maw, flashing his ivory fangs at the mare. She had obtained a victory, a win. But his grin was short lived the moment Espen emitted an ear shattering shriek and fell dead. Ebon harks shot forward and his visage turned in the direction of the slain bear god. Hel said that the mighty bear was the protector of the valley, and that none could defeat him. Yet here he laid, defeated in a growing pool of his own divine blood with Fenrir hovering over him with a wicked grin spanning from ear to ear.

All remained still as the towering wolf god voiced his ominous claim over the valley. All except for Andante who peeled his velveteen lips back with a snarl to usher in a challenging growl vibrating loudly within his vocals. As the winds began to whip with a sting and Fenrir's sung his eerie song of victory, Andante teetered close to Ezera's side. Pressing against the mare he hoped not to loose he in the white out as snow and ice blasted from all angles. But as quickly as the blizzard began, it ended, leaving behind the forsaken and the dead. Catching his breath he peeled himself away from the dark woman, taking note of a platoon of soldiers already hurrying away.

With a squint of his garnet eyes he could make out the banner of Ambrosius and their wounded sovereign, Caelian amongst them. Tossing his attention away the boy king looked around quickly, his crimson hooves bringing him forward a few steps. Where's Brynja!? He asked no one in particular but heaved a sigh of relief as his eyes landed upon the striped hide of the resilient mare. Turning to a helmed soldier bearing his banner the young king spoke up. Go aid her, and bring her back here. We will be departing soon. The soldier gave a curt nod of his head and took off, while he himself continued to look around of someone in particular.

Where is that blush colored pegasus from earlier...? The hellhound murmured to himself as he skimmed over the remnants of war. He did not fall in battle did he? Surly he hoped not, for he wished to thank the man that had offered to warn him and fight with his people and his banner with being asked.

Exposed nerve endings aflame as his ravaged wing settled onto the icy shore, the vampire eyed the fawn speckled werewolf wildly. Nares flaring with each enraged breath that he took, Vladius waited for it to take the bait with fleshy-pink lips pulled taut into a wide grin, better exposing the full length of his fangs. Rivets of crimson trailing from his now blood stained maw, his tongue dancing with the taste of it, he pawed at the ground impatiently when the she-wolf failed to strike, a single blush hoof striking at the ice in rapid success.

He growled then, low and throaty; dangerous. If this mouse of a direwolf would not take it upon herself, then he gladly would. Snorting out a vaporous cloud of hot breath, Vlad sprung up and threw himself back into a rear, forelegs attacking the air as an explosive cry departed his lungs. Draconian wings extended to demonstrate the whole of his mass, he lunged. Full tilt, he pelted across the frozen lake, closing the gap between them in only a few short strides, but perhaps not fast enough.

The soldier had thrown himself from the fray to seemingly offer the vampire whatever help he could, and Vlad had to skid to a halt or else slam right into the other equids body. However unwanted, the knight effectively took out the spotted mouse-wolf and another to spare. Leathery appendages rising and furling. He snarled through the pain, or maybe he was baring his fangs at the soldier? "Thanks for the assist." He bit out, though he hardly spared the man a second glance as rose-gold opals took in the battlefield, searching for Giovani.

A rack of chrome was easy enough to spot, but a woman of silver and gray tiger stripes stood between them, locked in battle. She didn’t appear to be faring all too well, and though Vlad knew nothing of her, he couldn’t very well leave her to get torn to bits. Quickly, he took flight again, racing to the mare’s side. The wolf, with its obsidian coat, clung to her back, teeth tearing into the exposed flesh of her withers. Coming up on the pair as they struggled against one another, Vlad didn’t slow. Instead, he let his momentum force the direwolf apart from the gray mare as fangs sunk into the flesh of its neck. Grabbing at it from behind, his dagger-like wolf teeth plunged deep, carving an easy path through muscle and tendons alike. He skittered to a halt, bouncing against the ice, the dire flailing wildly in his grasp, but with a few vicious shakes of his head, the wolf stilled.

The vampire waited a few moments more before allowing a now lifeless carcass to the slide from his mouth. As it landed with a thud on the ice, he turned back to the mare, taking in her wounds carefully; critically. "Are you alright? Can you walk?" He asked of her, his words coming out as more of an unintentional demand, the rasp of his voice adding a harsh bite. But before he could get an answer, the guttural cry of a dying god echoed across the lake. As if an unspoken truce had rung out, all fighting ceased, and those left alive stood to face a victorious Fenrir. The massive black wolf tossed his head back in a mighty howl, ushering in a sudden wave of fierce wintery weather.

"Let’s hurry then, we shouldn’t linger here." Vlad murmured to the woman without looking away from the wolf king, rose opals trailing after the retreating army of the direwolves. What a crazy world you’ve lead me to dear sister. Questions swimming in his eyes, he began to move away, heading in the general direction of where he’d last spotted his acquaintance but stopped briefly to offer his shoulder as support should the blue-eyed warrior woman need it.

Storm brewing, Vladius approached the boy and his companion who he quickly regarded, noting the golden string tying her lips together with mild curiosity. "Giovani," The vampire greeted loudly over the roaring of the wind with a brief nod. A lazy smile turning bloodstained velvets, he quickly congratulated the lad before throwing his head in a gesture south. As he'd said, they shouldn't linger. "Bravely fought my friend. Glad to see you and yours alive."

The haze of anger cleared away as the wolf beneath her horn stilled. It took a couple of seconds for the mute to realize that is was dead and she didn't have to fight anymore. She stumbled away from it, wincing at the sound of horn leaving the animal's body. Her breath sent puffs of mist rising into the air from her nose as she struggled to for a moment to calm down. The sounds of attack continued around her but one particular sound caught her attention. Ezera turned just in time to watch as Andante took down another wolf that had been trying to come up behind her. Golden eyes caught the flash of his fangs a moment before the giant bear that had been fighting Fenrir let out a sound that said more than the image before them did.
The unicorn flinched at both the sound and the sight of the great bear falling to the wolf. Even without knowing exactly who the bear had been or what he had been fighting for it had obviously been on their side. Shock held her in place while the wolf spoke but Andante's growl snapped her out of it. She was about to say something when the snow started to swirl around the air. Panic sent ice into her veins when everything became white and everybody vanished. Ezera had almost slipped into the memory when she felt someone press up against her side, someone familiar. A shudder passed through her at the roller coaster of emotions that the day had been so far but she shook it off when the snow settled.
She watched as the young king started looking around at what the war had left behind. Andante was the only one that she knew but some of the others were recognizable from the first fight. The one that flew up to them was not one of the ones she recognized but he seemed to know the boy. The name had Ezera tilting her head to the side but she didn't question it, just gave him the same regarding look.

Nonpartisan

Everything had happened so fast. Pelts of black kin had careened past her and hides of all shades painted upon equine bodies seemingly manifested from the brinks of her mind. Chaos had erupted in her peripherals while her true intent still rested with the blush pegasus now lingered between her jaws ("Yes, child, kill him, kill him, kill him..." the new masculine voice murmured pleasantly in her ear) - but he lingered there only a moment. First the world blurred, muddying the sharp whites, crisp blues, and rose gold of the draconian stallion before her. Then hot pain erupted beneath the thick coat of obsidian fur of the werewolf. Her curled talons swept through the air blindly as her mind's eye finally realized what was happening: she'd been side swept, barreled over by another with what seemed the brute force of a mammoth. And as the trumpets of such elephantine creatures sang in the air Marem did believe that her unseen foe was such. She could feel the massive feet pummel her as she continued to roll. Once her shoulder clipped the ice and a yelp spilled from her maw with arching saliva. Momentum kept her rolling, aided by the kicks of her attacker that sought to break her lupine ribs; her neck bent most awkwardly and painfully as her hips and spin arched over her. And as her dorsal collided with the unforgiving ice again, and she thought it done, she tried to blink through the starbursts decorating her eyes, more beatings came.

Her wolf cries wept into the snowstorm, the yowls swept away in the harsh zephyrs to hide away just what assault hide along the frozen shores. Her ossein cage protected her precious lungs enough that they were not punctured, but surely one cracked beneath the colossal weight of the mammoth draft attacking her. But one blow... oh... one blow... ("Move child, you must move!") crushing hooves struck down upon the wicked werewolf like a butcher's blade before her wits had returned and snapped the precious, nimble bones of her left foreleg. A screech not unlike a harpy's tore through Maren's canines, the sharp teal of her pupil-less eyes crescented with the black, soft flesh of her eye as the world came to her in abrupt clarity.

Apparently her wailing, endless wails were enough to satisfy her assaulter for the draft finally turned away and left the mangled and broken Maren abandoned along the salty shores. Crystals of sea spray hissed at her back as the ice flows sprinkled her with the eerie ocean's caress. The waters stained the blood upon the ice, painting the new snow pink. But the salty water stung, oh did it burn. Struggling, her bodied beaten and bruised to match the colors inherited from her father beneath the down of black fur, Maren rolled onto one thin lupine leg as the haunting howls of her father ripped through the air. The blackness that had consumed her, controlled her, vibrated within her chest, her very soul, and the youth found herself unable to focus again. Shaking through the unbearable pain, it seemed her lithe frame could not feel a single iota more, for her bone-cracking and muscle-restructuring transformation back to her true form was almost a relief.

"Maren!" "Maren!" "Maren!"

The Women Within cried, their mourning lament materializing through a fog within her mind. The young witch felt dizzy and unable to stand. Slack jawed she turned her visage enough to witness the obsidian devil upon the horizon with his children her brethren, her father before they retreated into the Valley. Somehow, she knew they had been victorious. Despite her surmounting pain that raked her body with tremors, the dires had won. With jerking turns she brought her gaze down to her mangled, blood seeping leg as it bent unnaturally. Bloodied drool crested her khol lips before dripping into the stained snow. The alabaster of her pelt steadily soaked the pink wet around her until her darkened eyes lifted to the battlefield and all those on it. Then blackness overwhelmed her, and the girl collapsed, unconscious.

From somewhere far away, someone with a voice she knew was calling for her. Dimly, her mind fought to place a face, a name to the voice, but her brave - foolhardy? - attempt to bend the mind of Fenrir even a little bit was consuming all of her awareness and focus. If she had been less preoccupied, she might have rejoiced to see the water-horse whom she had dubbed "Guardian-han" back at the shores of much more peaceful waters, but as it was she had not the mental capacity to stir even a muscle. His shout, however, proved vital - roused from his perplexed confusion at wondering what the foreign priestess was trying to do, the Vromme soldier who valiantly stood at her side glanced up just in time to catch sight of the wolf launch himself at the mare's unprotected flanks. With a shout of equal parts surprise and anger the stallion bodily threw himself at the canine and tackled it mid-leap with ivories flashing, and the wolf went down with a yelp as its intended surprise attack was fouled.

The priestess, spared from the slavering jaws of the wolf, fared little better despite the respite that her Guardian-han's warning had bought her. The great god-bear's dying roar ripped through the air, and at the same moment Higurashi cried out as though in physical pain, her knees buckling beneath her and bringing her sinking down upon the bloody ice. Golden eyes squeezed shut as she tried to block out the horrible voice that welled up unbidden inside her head, but the pressure only mounted higher and higher until her breath came up too short to even sob and she felt that she would rather die than endure longer. When at last the pain receded to a dull pulse, Kagura opened her eyes and was almost surprised to see her own tears mingled with the blood that dripped from her nose.

Still breathing in short gasps, she looked up through blurry eyes to behold the horrors that had befallen all around. The wolves were retreating, leaving tattered and broken survivors in their wake, but they were not slinking away in defeat, rather howling their victory over their greatest foe as they departed. The cold winds swept in the fresh snows of winter with a vengeance, and the new unnatural chill that descended was a bitter reflection of the defeated hearts of the survivors that remained. The scarlet mare might have lain there for hours more until she was buried with her despair in the snowdrifts, were it not for the gentle nudge of the Vromme soldier at her back. "Lady Kagura," he murmured, his voice drawn taut with the same grief that ravaged them all. "We'd better go."

[ tags ] Storyteller | Natsilane | @Everyone
[ words ] 456
[ ooc ] Oop late to the party but I wanted to throw this in there for completeness anyways XD

He circles the skies with a wicked grin on his face; amused by the remnants of war littering the ground below. Smatterings of blood, dislodged fur and flesh tell the story of this battle and he is annoyed to have missed what was clearly one hell of a party. Mortals and their troublesome egos. A dark chuckle splits his lips to reveal gleaming ivories. Despite becoming mortal once again through an unseen force, the Fallen retains the mentality he has possessed for eons; mortals are foolish, untrustworthy, and generally not worth the short time granted to them in this universe. He lowers himself down until details become clearer and he is unsurprised to finally see movements; there is often a short lull of stillness once a victor is declared. There are numerous equine stirring back to life, their forms tattered and broken.

He smiles anew.

He relishes in the chaos permeating the frozen terrain.

Ozereus lands at the edge of what became their battlefield and soaks the disarray in on a deep lungful of air. Silvered eyes become edged with shadow, the feral side of his natural itches to take control and finish off those now struggling to survive. The desire to succumb to the simmering bloodlust tinges the world crimson and a malicious twist mars the entertained smile curling pitch lips. He casually strolls through the ones picking themselves back up to live another day, feathered limbs dragging behind him to soak up their blood. It reminds him of a time before he fell from Heaven’s Grace and the gleam in darkening eyes increases. Child’s play. To an angel of destruction, this is his paradise. A world painted red.

A flash of blue amongst the greys, blacks, and reds catches his attention. A woman falls unconscious, wrapped in silent pain, but he wonders if this is who he heard shrieking to the skies. The noise is what brought him to this place, that delicious sound of immense pain curling inside his ears until it was all he could hear. Onyx head tilts to the left as he slowly studies the body of the smaller, prone mare. Child’s play. The thought resonates a second time. It would be too easy to steal her life away. His gaze falls to what is surely the source of her violent screams; a broken leg and not easily fixed. Ozereus ignores the sounds of shuffling hooves, the survivors noisily scurrying off to lick their wounds in some hidden vale.

He stands, a statue carved of the purest, darkest ebony. He debates, wavering between a kill too effortless to count and moving the woman somewhere else to potentially heal. The odds of recovery are miniscule, but something in him senses the potential for a kindred soul in her stained eyes. He shifts to draw his left wing forward and proceeds to roughly jostle her; if she cannot survive his prodding then she is too far gone to bother with. A voice, rough with disuse, but as enticing as the softest silk, murmurs to her. ”It is time to wake up.” The shadows leave dark eyes to reveal the twin galaxies spinning in their depths, that ever amused smirk on full display.